They moved through the servants' quarters, two co-conspirators hurrying about the castle.

Frederick knew every passageway, every hiding hole, every secret this place held. By the age of nine, he had enough hideouts and would go missing for days. The servants would bring him food and water, keeping the secret of where he stayed no matter what the Gentle King demanded. He never thought to be showing these hallways to someone as fearsome as the Widow Queen.

He grinned as he tugged Arabella's hand, leading her up the worn spiral staircases that whined with disturbance. She said nothing all the while, offering tense smiles toward the servants who openly gaped at them as they passed. Finally, they reached the rickety staircase that led to an old outpost, and the cold night air greeted them as he led her to the tooth-shaped battlements that overlooked a darkened courtyard.

"Where have you taken me?" she asked.

"Listen," he murmured.

Laughter sounded in the distance; a bonfire visible in the center of town. He gripped the stone battlement and inhaled, catching a whiff of sweetness in the air. "The people are celebrating Lovers of the Sky everywhere in the country. The fire you see is from the city itself where people gather in the squares to sell their wares-sweets, chocolates, art, flowers, fruits-various things. They forget their troubles for a night and drink and dance the night away when the transactions are done."

Arabella leaned forward, resting her elbows on the stone. "They sound like they're having a wonderful time. You don't go down there to celebrate?"

"No, not as myself. I would only ruin it."

She raised a brow. "From the stories I hear, it doesn't sound like they hate you at all."

He shrugged. "Perhaps they do. Perhaps they don't. Either way, I don't reveal myself when I go. I would spoil it for the citizens who hate me because they would loathe seeing my presence there-and rightfully so. And I would spoil it for the people who support me because they would shower me with gifts they couldn't afford to part with for free. They'd never accept my payment, and I might ruin many businesses down there that way. Even those who hated me would feel obligated to give me gifts. I won't allow it."

"But you do go?"

"I do." He rested his elbows next to hers, both of them comfortably settling shoulder to shoulder. "I went this afternoon in a hooded cloak before this nonsense started. I just wanted to see it all because I don't know when I'll see it again."

"Why do you think you'll never see these festivities again?"

Cheering erupted from somewhere far away. "I don't know. I suppose we never know which day will be our last."

The wind blew stray hairs past her face. "And none of the other royal family members attend the festivities beyond the castle walls?"

"No," he replied. "None of the royal family attend, not even in secret, because they are hated utterly. And that's for certain."

"And why do you think they hate you, Freddie?"

He clasped both hands together, forming one fist. "They put their faith in me because they had nothing else. They called me the greatest general that ever lived-which was always horseshit, but they had nothing else to believe in. My family has given them nothing to believe in." He took a deep breath. "I fought like a bastard and reached for plans like ropes. I was maddened, bent on vindication, crazed by my own desires. I drove an army with them. And then I lost. I failed everyone."

"You carry so much guilt," she said quietly. "Too much guilt."

He focused on the flame of the bonfire in the distance until his eyes burned. "I am haunted by an unending susurration of shame and embarrassment. I will never escape it."

She covered his clasped hands with one of her own, his skin prickling with awareness for simply being touched by her again. "I understand all too well. But look at me as an example of greater failures. I've lived for millenniums and have never found a way to free my people from this fucking life. But you ..." She glanced at him. "I know it will be different for you. Why don't you share with me the vision you have for these people of yours?"

Emotion curled in his chest, almost making it impossible to speak. "You see that courtyard below us? When I was a boy, it used to be filled with people from all over the country on the evening of the Lovers of the Sky. We used to open it up to everyone, and anyone who lived near here would come and celebrate in this castle. No such thing as commoner or royalty on a holiday like this."

He cleared his throat. "And that day-the way it used to be-is what I want this country to be every day. But the class divide here is the most abhorrent in all the Star. It shouldn't be. And because of this class divide ... The people live in a poverty so abhorrent it makes me ashamed to bear the title of Prince."

"You remember what this place was like when you were a little boy?"

Frederick certainly did. He would never forget it. A rare instance when Thescan had been free of war. A happy place. Somewhere that felt like home even if the castle had not.

"You want to do good by this place, don't you?" she said, standing straight. "Your intentions are ... they're noble?"

He snorted. "Sure, I want to make this place magnificent, but it's still for completely selfish reasons. I want to be the king because I feel entitled to it. No other reason than that."

"You're the king's firstborn," she said, shock in her voice. "You don't feel entitled, you are entitled. So I'll ask again-why doesn't he claim you? He seems quite proud of you."

The faint sound of a fiddle ribboned through the night from somewhere far away, distracting him for a moment. A gentle breeze brought with it a woodsy smell that made him long to go wherever it was and warm by the fire.

"I want to learn about you, Freddie," she said, nearly a whisper. "But I don't want to force you to tell me things you don't want to."

Frederick inhaled as if he could pull in much-needed strength. "The Gentle King's father was of similar Chalice-given power. He had visions at random that gave him glimpses of the future. He saw a vision of a black-haired orphan boy who would go on to be a great leader. A man who would raise the Sword of Thescan-completely stupid title." He gestured to himself. "So he searched high and low for the brilliant orphan boy and found him on the streets-starving, filthy, dying."

"Urnald isn't related to the Thescan royals in any way?"

"None at all," Frederick confirmed. "And thank the gods for that, for madness is heavy in this line."

"Oh, Freddie," she murmured. "You aren't mad."

"I have an unrelenting obsession of ruling this place-isn't that the same?" He smirked but she said nothing, waiting for him to go on. "He named him Urnald, a younger brother to Undrel, and was absolutely brutal in his training and raising of the boy. He grew up hardened, well-honed, and ready to fight for Thescan. Both brothers had a bond, but Undrel was always jealous of the attention his adopted brother Urnald received."

"And then?"

"And then they became men. The king wanted to make Urnald his successor but never got the chance. He died, and the neglected Undrel took the Chalice and became one of the most formidable powers in all the Star. He sent Urnald to battle at the earliest opportunity to defend cities across the sea. But Urnald was happy to be rid of him, for a while, at least."

Frederick looked up to the sky, hating that he decided to reveal the next part. All of it. "And then along came a woman. Two, actually. Lady Dorothea and Lady Henrietta. Two sisters. Two beauties."

"Dorothea?" she questioned with an arched brow.

"Well," he said, "she clings to her youth desperately, even now. But she was never as lovely as Lady Henrietta."

Her expression softened. "Your mother?"

"Indeed," he confirmed. "Urnald came back from the fight, met her at a ball much like this one, and he fell in love with her and she with him. They became engaged within a week and began to plan their wedding before Urnald returned to battle."

"I hate where this is headed," she murmured.

He nodded. "Undrel was jealous. Urnald had a woman of noble blood who cared for him, adored him. They were besotted with each other, and Undrel was no longer the center of Urnald's attention. And she was of incredible beauty. He saw my mother and wanted her at once. And he had her."

Her lips twisted. "But if she was so in love with Urnald, why did she have an affair with Undrel?"

"She didn't," Frederick said, flexing his fingers until they shook.

She focused on a spot in the distance, her knuckles white and she gripped the battlement. Maybe she didn't believe him. But it didn't matter. He had to go on. Put all of it into words. He'd never told another person about this and now he couldn't stop.

"Undrel, the fuckwit, bragged about seducing Henrietta, and of course Urnald was furious when he found out. Henrietta couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth, fearing that Undrel would predict any violence that Urnald might commit against him, getting Urnald killed in the process. So she went with the lie, too ashamed to tell him the truth. Urnald called off the engagement and went back to the battle over the ocean, not caring if he lived or died."

Frederick struggled to breathe, but he had to continue. "She learned after the encounter with Undrel that she was pregnant with me, and she stayed in court for three months, hoping that Urnald would come back while deciding what to do with her unborn child. She was readying to flee the country when Urnald returned.

"He was still heartbroken over her affair and demanded to know the truth of it. She told him what happened, begging him not to even entertain killing his brother for fear that Undrel would see the threads and kill him first. Urnald had a decision to make, and he decided he couldn't live without her and knew she shouldn't pay for Undrel's sins, nor should her unborn child."

He closed his eyes. "My mother said that Urnald did some grand romantic gesture where he begged for her hand, and she was all too happy to have him back because she knew she would never love anyone else. They married. I was born. I've never lived a day where he didn't claim me as his own, love me like his own, and he's my real father. He always will be."

"How ... how good of him," she whispered. "How kind of him. To take you. To raise you. To accept you as his own. I would have never believed Undrel capable of such a crime in a thousand years. How did you find out all this?"

Irrational relief flooded him. She did believe him. "I didn't have to find out. I saw it for myself many times over the years."

"Saw-" She straightened. "Frederick, what are you saying?"

He swallowed. "He wasn't finished with my mother after the first assault. He repeated it, over and over. Whenever Urnald's back was turned ..." He closed his eyes. "I saw it happen to her. Sometimes he didn't know I could see, and sometimes he didn't-" He bent over the battlement, fighting for air as he closed and released his fists over and over. "Sometimes he didn't care."

Her fangs glinted in the dark, her black nails lengthening. "Go on."

"When my parents were away he told me many times that he was my father. Told me to be grateful that I was alive."

"And where were your parents when he said those things?"

"Urnald and my mother lived in our estate at Aldren Heights, but I lived here for most of my life. Bront was far, far too attached to me, and he always cried when I left with them. So the king ordered me to live at the castle to keep Bront happy. To keep me close to him."

She clucked her tongue. "Freddie ..."

"Urnald has a responsibility as the Head of the House of the Moon, and thus he had to be at Aldren Heights. My mother wanted to move in with me, and she did live here for a time. But the attacks-" A sharp shake of his head. "The Gentle King continued to attack her when she lived here. I could no longer take it. She protected me, even if it meant throwing herself at him. So I had to send her away, and I eventually managed to do that."

"Protected you? He abused you, too?"

"I had many a beating under the Gentle King's hand. I was still his son, even if it was a secret, so he thought himself fit to discipline me." He tried to force a smile for her sake, but even under the night sky, he could tell her eyes were scarlet with fury. "Be surprised that I grew up well enough for you to find me 'pretty'. Undrel always ensured there were healers to set my nose straight and set my jaw to rights, but if you look closely at the pinky finger on my right hand, you will see it slightly crooked from where he took my hand and slammed a door against it. There was no healer around to set me to rights that time."

"Freddie," she said, her voice breaking. "I don't know how you survived it. I would have run away."

"I did," he agreed. "I tried to run away many times. At one point I tried to get to Carnelia."

He thought he heard her soft gasp of shock. "Carnelia?"

"Of all places, yes. Carnelia. My many escape attempts were always thwarted. So I concocted a bizarre plan to escape to Carnelia and plead your mercy. I reasoned that the Gentle King could never force me to return if I had you on my side."

She gripped her stomach. "How old were you?"

"Fourteen years old," he said. "I knew enough about surviving on the land that I braved the trip. What I didn't know was that the streams ran dry much sooner than I anticipated, and though I was willing to trek for weeks, the land wouldn't let me. I thought I would die out there between your land and mine. But the Gentle King figured out where I went with his power, of course. His soldiers found me, and I raged all the way back."

He chuckled but noted that she had become extremely still at his side. "The beating was brilliant, and when I finally slit the bastard's throat, I'll cut off the finger with that horrid ruby ring and smash it into pieces."

They stood next to each other, saying nothing for a while. The stone of the battlement seemed to be cracking under her hands, but he didn't believe he was seeing that correctly.

"It all makes sense now," she said softly. "All of it."

"I should hope so."

"I know what it's like," she said, tilting her head up to the stars. "I know what it's like to be powerless. Abused. Paraded around for the amusement of others. I know what it's like to be degraded. To think you will never be free. To lust and thirst for power so badly that it becomes an obsession that rips you apart."

The admission startled him. For he could never imagine her being so vulnerable. She always seemed tough. Strong. Regal. Unyielding. Untouchable.

Who could have rendered her to that? What was her story.

"I understand what you want now, Freddie," she said, viewing him. She appeared calm but her eyes still glimmered with that rage red. "I see it all quite clearly now. It's answered so many of my questions. And I cannot believe that you shared this with me tonight."

"Well, since I'm in the spirit of sharing ..." He peeped at her before casting his eyes across the kingdom, clasping his hands behind his back. "I should tell you that the number is eight."

"Number-what number?"

He offered her a tight smile, gladdened to be shielded by the evening's darkness. "The answer to your question about how many women I've bedded. The answer is eight. And that doesn't include the women I've gone up to a point with. Women I've pleasured in other ways. But if we're talking about the act of intercourse, then I've slept with eight women."

She blinked slowly. "You've only slept with eight women."

"Mmmm. Not an impressive enough number for that reputation you tend to bring up from time to time. I was so scarred by my mother's torments that I couldn't stop myself from seeing it every time I so much as thought about losing my virginity-which I didn't lose, by the way, until I turned twenty-six. And even then, I was so terrified of impregnating someone that I had to be very selective and cautious with my bedmates."

"Twenty-" She gripped the bridge of her nose. "Frederick, I'm sorry for teasing you with all that reputation nonsense."

He shrugged. "Don't be. The women I slept with were quite powerful, influential people. I learned afterward that some of them tended to be horrible gossips. Hence, how I earned the reputation ..."

"Eight women," she repeated to herself. "Only eight?"

"And one vampyre."

She shivered. "Frederick, I don't even know what to say. You are incredible to me."

"Then you haven't been listening to a word I said." She faced him sharply, but he didn't bring himself to meet her eyes. "I'm the Gentle King's bastard, worth nothing to no one. And every time I look in the mirror, I see my mother's abuser in my face."

"Freddie-"

"Why did I have to inherit everything about him?" he demanded. "This whole family is a joke. The loudest secret in all of Thescan. There isn't one person who doesn't see him in my face, know that it's his blood running through mine. They thought my mother was a crown-chasing whore who wasn't satisfied enough with being a wife to a Prince General, and it took her years to earn the respect of the court but gods, how she suffered. Do you know how many times I've wanted to peel my own flesh off? How many times I wished and prayed that I was someone else."

Every star up burned a hole in his eyes. "Why couldn't I look like her? The woman I miss so damn much, even though I secretly hated her for never being able to spare me. Not really."

It was then that he realized he'd gone too far. Said too much. He strained his hearing to listen for any sounds coming from the city but could hear nothing over the drumming of his own heart.

"I wish I had known you then," she said. "Known who you were and what you were going through. I wish I had known you were on the way to my lands. I would have had someone save you in an instant."

"It doesn't matter anymore," he said honestly. "The past, I cannot change, but with you the future can be different."

"Then whatever you want is yours," she said low, "you only need ask."

And just like that, the weight of the world faded away.

His every hope, his every prayer, answered in a single sentence. The Widow Queen would help his plight. Believed in him. Supported him. He faced her then and took her hand, placing it over his heart. "Then I am on the verge of absolutely begging, Ara. Begging for you to be my wife again. Forget what happened before and let's start over."

She stepped closer. "But what about children?"

"I'm not too interested in continuing the Gentle King's bloodline, Ara. So if you never give me a child, that's fine. But if somehow we conceive a child ..." He shrugged. "We can worry about it then. Let's just agree to not worry about it now."

She still seemed unconvinced, her hand tensing over his chest.

He'd bared most of his soul to her-nearly all of it. Now he had to find a way to keep her there. "Let me tell you about the story of this eve, shall I?"

He unclipped the hooks that held the chain and removed the mantle from his back. "On this night before the world was whole, the sun having glimpsed the moon and all her beauty decided to pursue her, but she always got away.

"One night she stopped, and upon looking at his face she fell in love. The two of them danced the night together, but he had to go back to the day because the gods had bestowed upon him a duty. So he gave her a cloak so fine that it shimmered just like the universe, and only his light would make it shine.

"Every two years, exactly on a night like this, the sun and moon will meet and love together for a few hours before they are separated once more. But the moon wears her cloak every night in order to look her best for when she sees him next."

"What a lovely story," she murmured.

"So at every ball on the Lovers of the Sky, it is custom for Thescanian men to remove their capes and drape it over the lady of their choice, signifying to others that she is his alone for the night. It's called 'The Caping.'" He bowed to her. "So, Arabella, may I have the honor of caping you tonight? Show the world you're mine and no one else's."

Silver lined her eyes, but it was gone in a blink. "I would like nothing more than to be caped by you, Frederick."

They fell silent as he set his mantle upon her shoulders and clipped it. She tugged the fur opening together and nuzzled her cheek along the collar. He watched her bask in the warmth of him, as if wanting to be in his embrace.

As though she treasured him.

Frederick tilted her chin up and looked into her eyes. They stayed that way for mere seconds before he brought his lips to hers and united them once more.